Secrets of a Summer Night (The Wallflowers Book 1)

The earl shook his head, exhibiting a degree of frosty offense that could only be achieved by an aristocrat whose wishes had just been gainsaid. “I’ve never heard of a man being so eager to confess to the parent of a girl he’s just ruined,” he said sourly.

“Every time I see you,” he murmured, “I think you couldn’t possibly become any more beautiful—and you always prove me wrong.”

“Mr. Hunt,” she said sweetly, her gaze poisonous, “why don’t you go and—” “Miss Peyton!”

The more she tried to control her giggles, the worse they became, until she gasped frantically for air in between yelps. Somehow she managed to squeak out a few words. “What a s-s-smashing introduction to lawn sports!” And then she was snorting with more spasms of helpless laughter, while the other three stood over her. Daisy threw Annabelle a sign

“Mama has them all the time,” Daisy assured her. “Never fear, you’ll be well acquainted with conniptions before we all leave Hampshire.”

She smiled at Annabelle apologetically. “Sorry, dear. But you must admit that the English are willing to eat things that make Americans flee the table with screams of horror.”

“You like games, Annabelle,” Lillian said cheerfully. “And Rounders is the best game of all.” “I like the kind that is played at a table,” Annabelle retorted. “With proper clothes on.” “Clothing is vastly overrated,” came Daisy’s airy reply.

“Damn,” Westcliff finally exclaimed. “I have occasional business dealings with their father. How am I supposed to face Thomas Bowman without remembering that I’ve seen his daughter in her underwear?”

“Mr. Hunt, you sound like the villain in a very bad play.” That elicited another grin, and he bowed with sardonic politeness before striding away.